


i think we've loved a thousand lives

by gayxiaolong



Category: RWBY
Genre: 5+1 Things, Beacon Academy, Canon Compliant, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, in which blake recognizes her crush early on but pushes it down, in which there's a scene that's just team rwby playing monopoly, in which yang doesn't know what the hell she's feeling, mostly? if you ignore the tiniest of timeline changes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27130987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayxiaolong/pseuds/gayxiaolong
Summary: She revels in the quiet, unexpected intimacy, taking time to tie the braid with one of her extra ribbons that normally sits on her wrist. Her stomach twists at the knowledge that Yang would be walking around with something of hers. She thinks, then, that Yang already has a lot of her.***or, 5 times at Beacon Blake and Yang had feelings for each other + 1 time after the fall they acted on it
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 19
Kudos: 192





	i think we've loved a thousand lives

**Author's Note:**

> title from Same Soul by PVRIS (an extremely bumbleby song)
> 
> perspective in each scene is shown by (B) or (Y)

1\. (B)

Looking over the top of her book, Blake can see her partner sprawled out on the bottom bunk. She lays across the bed sideways, feet up on the wall, a waterfall of blonde hair cascading over the edge and onto the floor of their dorm room. Blake sits, cross-legged, on the floor against the other bed. She watches as her partner falls further, letting purple eyes catch hers upside down. Yang sticks her tongue out, to which Blake rolls her eyes and sets down her book. 

“We should probably get ready. Ruby and Weiss get out of their class soon.” The team had plans to meet at the gym to workout and train together after they were all done with classes. This unfortunately meant leaving behind how content they were just now, reading and playing scroll games, respectively. 

Yang lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a sigh- which Blake correctly interprets as ‘I don’t want to get up’. She rolls over and looks at Blake right-side-up this time. Her hair falls over her shoulder and half in her face. Blake is struck by how pretty she looks, face rosy from laying upside down, lazy eyes looking down at her.

“Can you braid my hair?”

Blake comes back into focus, but isn’t entirely sure if she heard Yang correctly. In the few weeks they’ve known each other, it’s been clear that nobody touches Yang’s hair. The first time Blake saw her in action, she was demolishing a forest over a single strand fallen. She always wears her hair up, braided or in a ponytail, during training- but she’s never asked anyone else to do it. She didn’t know they were that close, that Yang trusted her like that. A feeling settles in her stomach that she can’t place. She pushes it aside, replies, “Sure.”

Yang moves onto the floor, sitting in front of Blake, and leaning back slightly so the shorter girl can reach her hair. She reaches up with nervous hands to smooth Yang’s hair back. Soft fingers slide through her hair, twisting sections around each other to make a braid. 

The moment is so tender, so comfortable in its silence, that Blake doesn’t want to drop her hair down even after it’s done to her standards. She revels in the quiet, unexpected intimacy, taking time to tie the braid with one of her extra ribbons that normally sits on her wrist. Her stomach twists at the knowledge that Yang would be walking around with something of hers. She thinks, then, that Yang already has a lot of her. 

Yang stands, slowly, and asks her, “How do I look?” It’s said so softly it keeps the moment going; keeps Blake wondering why this affects her so much.

Yang’s question should be easy to answer, Blake knows. What she can’t decide is why it isn’t. It’s like there's _too much_ she could say. The almost-thoughts make their way up her throat without any chance of making it out. She doesn’t think she’s ready to say any of it, she can’t even process some of it. Yang has always been pretty. The night they met, she was in her pajamas and still turned heads. She's just the kind of person you notice. Blake is pretty sure half the grade has a crush on her by now. With Blake, it has always been intrigue as much as attraction. Blake is fascinated with the way she thinks, the way she fights, the way she cares. And, yes, she’s attractive. Bright eyes, beautiful hair, a smile that leaves her weak.

What she wasn’t prepared for is how often she’d _notice_ Yang being pretty. How many times since knowing her she’d be struck, breath caught in her chest for just a moment when she looked at her. _Is this how all partners feel?_ , she wonders. Being so close with someone at all times must just make you think differently about them, right? She settles on that, the other possibility too much to wrestle with today. 

Blake realizes after too long in this line of thought that she never responded, though staying silent isn't exactly out of character for her. She looks up at Yang, sees the way she’s smiling at her, and tries to find any words to say. “I like it,” is all she can pull from the foggy depths. 

Yang reaches down to help her up, and turns to their bathroom to change into workout gear. Blake stares at the empty space where Yang stood, just trying to come up with any reason she can feel her blood rushing, any reason her skin feels electrified, any reason her thoughts only travel to one destination.

\---

2\. (Y)

“Oh _come onnnn,_ ” squeals Ruby, “that’s the fourth time I’ve landed on one of your railroads, Yang. Don’t I get a little sister discount or something?”

“The talons of capitalism latch onto all, Rubes,” Yang replies. She smiles at Blake's quiet chuckle from the other side of the table. “Pay up.”

“Ugh, fine, take your 200,” Ruby reluctantly hands over two flimsy slips of paper with ‘Remnant Monopoly Lien’ written on them.

The team has been in one of the private rooms of the library for over an hour now. These rooms were meant for group projects and studying, but Ruby had no problem reserving one since the semester hadn’t yet begun. After getting cleaned up from their food fight with JNPR that morning, they decided they needed a calmer way to spend the rest of their last day before classes. This game of Monopoly hadn’t exactly lived up to the word ‘calm’. 

Yang’s token landed in jail last turn, and she fails to roll doubles in order to get out. 

“Oh no… I’m stuck in jail… how ever will I recover from three turns apart from Weiss’ Hell Corner,” Yang says dryly as she passes the dice to Weiss. The heiress had set up hotels on 6 properties in a row- which continued to push the rest of the group into near-bankruptcy.

“Just because _I_ am business-minded and managed to build my way up to a flourishing hotel market does not mean I have done so as a personal vendetta against you, Yang,” Weiss bites back with all the snark expected of a child bred to take over an empire. 

Weiss rolled the die and managed to land on the only unowned property left on the board, the Emerald Forest. She wordlessly hands the 280 fake lien to Ruby to put in the bank and adds the property to her pile. “Your turn, Blake,” she says as she hands her the dice.

Blake has been royally destroyed by Weiss’ Hell Corner. She had a handful of properties left, but no monopolies, and was down to less than 100 lien on the table. She rolls an 8, landing on one of Yang’s properties with a hotel, Vale Harbor.

Yang reads her property card. “With a hotel, it comes out to 850. But we might be able to work something out,” she says, mostly joking. Weiss had already yelled at her about following the rules. 

Blake looks Yang in the eyes, leans in to grab both her shoulders over the table, and reasons, “Yang, we both know Weiss is the enemy here.” 

Even through the disgruntled ‘ _what’s that supposed to mean?’_ in the background, all Yang registers is golden eyes pleading at her and the way her own breath falters at the touch. “I’ll accept 13 lien and a strawberry sunrise after class tomorrow.”

“Deal,” she replies, smiling wide, and Yang wonders why the rules existed in the first place.

Weiss scoffs, clearly tired of this. “Yang, you have to stop letting Blake get away with not having money. She should’ve been bankrupt half an hour ago!”

“Yeah, what happened to the talons of capitalism?” Ruby adds. 

“Partner discounts trump sister discounts, sorry!” 

“Let’s go through this, shall we?” Weiss starts, counting on her fingers, “First you trade her a property that would have given you a monopoly because it was purple, so you thought she would like it.”

“Correct.”

“Second, you tilt her dice over so that she landed one space past my Hell Corner,” she continued.

“I’m glad you’ve finally accepted that your corner is Hell.”

Weiss gives an eye roll before going on, “Then you said she wouldn’t have to pay your railroad rent if she grabbed you a cookie from the dining hall when she went to pee.”

“That cookie was great.” 

“And now you are giving her an 837 lien discount because she’ll hang out with you after class.”

“Not to mention you let her take the thimble even though you’ve played with that every time since we were kids,” Ruby rushed out. 

“What, did you think I would take the cat? That’s stereotyping at its finest, Ruby,” Blake joked, earning a snort from Yang. She seemingly ignores their arguments, handing Yang 13 of her remaining fake lien and giving her an over-the-top wink in agreement to their plans for tomorrow. 

Weiss’ voice rises in an attempt at authority. “It’s just favoritism! You’re letting her get away with everything because… you fight together?? I don’t do that for Ruby!” Ruby’s sound of agreement is coated in pain at all the houses she had to sell in order to afford rent in the Hell Corner two turns ago. 

That’s ridiculous, Yang thinks, to compare her and Blake’s relationship with the other set of partners at the table. She just can't explain why, can’t find the language for the disparity. 

“It’s different with us,” is the only response Yang can come up with, not registering how Blake’s ears perk up at the admission.

\---

3\. (B)

“How come you haven't taken the rest of the team here?” It comes out almost in a whisper, tone matching the quiet peace of the world around her. 

Blake is in awe. The garden Yang is leading her to on their lunch break is gorgeous. A small area hidden behind a lesser-used school building was apparently home to a rainbow of flowers, circling a central fountain that has likely not been turned on in years. Blake has never even been on this side of campus before. The garden was clearly overgrown, vines growing over the stone walls and wildflowers springing up everywhere. It was beautiful. 

“I thought it could just be us,” Yang replies, clearly nervous. Blake isn’t sure why she won’t meet her eyes. She can’t tell why her own stomach has butterflies either. It was always the two of them, but lately the two of them together felt like _more_. 

“A partner thing,” is the reassurance she gives back. It’s something she repeats to herself often. When she sees Yang enter a room and everything feels hotter, it's just a partner thing. When she finds herself drawing Yang in the margins of her notes in Oobleck’s class, it's just because they spend so much time together. When she finds herself at attention every time Yang speaks, like she’s drinking in every word, it’s just because they’re partners. This reasoning is both comforting and total bullshit, Blake knows.

She sees Yang smile, her beautiful smile, and is put at ease immediately. She would come here everyday just to see that. It feels so good to know she’s happy, after learning about so much sadness in her past. It feels even better to so often be the cause of it recently. 

The dance was coming up this weekend and Yang had already convinced her to go. She was still sure she should be doing something else to stop Torchwick or to find out what the White Fang was doing- but she owed her a dance. There’s a chance of a slow song, of Yang’s hands on her, of a night filled with happiness that she hasn’t let herself feel lately. And maybe that possibility was enough. Right now, she lets herself breathe for a moment, knows that indulging her partner in a picnic for their one hour lunch break isn’t going to be the end of the world. When the school day is over, she’ll go to the library and drown in research like she’s done every day. For now, she can be with Yang. 

They sit on a bench, drinking bottles of Sunflower Pop that Yang grabbed from the cafeteria on their way there. It feels easy, in the way Blake feels a lot with Yang. It isn’t easy the way Sun is, in how she knows what to expect with him. She rarely knows what to expect with Yang, whether she’ll laugh until her stomach hurts, fight in practiced unity, or be open about their pasts to the point of tears. She never knows what she’ll get with Yang- but she wants all of it. She wants the tears, the hugs, the partnership, the _more_ . It’s the _more_ that scares her.

She doesn’t need the distraction. She doesn’t need to let someone in- she knows how that ends. She doesn’t need _more_. So why does she want it? Why does she want to be the reason she sees Yang smile? Why does she want to go to a stupid school dance? Gods, why does she want to see Yang in the dress she picked out, and why does that thought give her goosebumps? Why does she have a crush, when she swore to never let herself feel this way again?

She isn’t used to this feeling, can’t understand where it comes from. The safety that she feels around Yang is something she hasn’t felt before. Blake is used to screams and pain, feeling anxious around the person who claims to love her. She doesn’t have the capacity to comprehend feeling this good around someone. Adam made her feel like she wasn’t allowed to breathe around him, but Yang takes her breath away. Yang could pull her soul out of her chest and it would blossom in her hand, like it found its way home.

It's all so new, so different. She doesn’t have any answers. So she just sits there. She drinks her Sunflower Pop. She looks at the girl next to her and wonders why she never noticed her freckles before, looks away when she thinks about her lips for a moment too long to be normal. She places her hand in her jacket pocket, pressing the bottle cap into her palm until she feels it- a reminder. This is new, and that’s okay. 

“I know you’ve been working hard lately. And I know you haven’t been sleeping,” Yang starts. Blake watches as she bites her lip, unsure of how to continue. “I love how passionate you are. How you won’t stop fighting until you make a difference. But you need to take care of yourself along the way. I do hope you come to the dance, but I really just hope you get some rest.”

Blake sighs, her mind not made up about responding. Since their conversation in the library, she’s been trying to appear better for her team- for Yang. She’s tried to seem more upbeat at their team lunches and tried to answer questions in class. She clearly hasn’t done enough for Yang to believe it. It’s not surprising, she thinks, it’s like Yang can see all of me.

When she finds the courage to look up, expecting pity, she only finds care in its place. Lavender eyes plead with her, the softest she’s ever seen them, to just take a break. A choked out, “Okay,” is all she can respond with, all she has the energy to produce. Yang smiles at her, and Blake forgets any other motivation she could have. 

Yang taps her scroll to check the time. “We have half an hour until Port’s class. I’ll wake you up if you wanna take a power nap,” her tone is so genuine that Blake gives in. She could have argued, made excuses. That would be easier than the alternative. But something about Yang’s voice just begs to be listened to.

Blake wraps her arms around herself, leans to rest her head on Yang’s shoulder, and tries to ignore how fast her pulse becomes. She finds comfort in the other versions of herself. She knows, right now, there's a universe where she can kiss her. There's a universe where they're already together. There's a universe where there isn't a need for that sinking feeling that she might not feel the same way- the feeling that's been gnawing its way into her. There’s a universe with rivers crashing and walls crumbled to the ground. A universe with _more_. 

She falls asleep like that, Yang rubbing soft circles on her back. She dreams of lavender fields and fate, of past lives and gleaming futures. 

\---

4\. (B)

“We should probably put something on that,” Blake says, pointing out Yang’s injury from yesterday’s fight. They’re sitting on a picnic blanket in the garden they found. It had become tradition on days when they don’t share a lunch period with Weiss and Ruby. Nobody bothered them here, and Blake always appreciated somewhere without eyes on her. She preferred this company. She felt safe, protected, around Yang. The ribbon that usually hid her ears lays on the ground between them.

Aura had been healing the cut on her partner’s leg, but it was still clearly visible. Yang gives a dismissive hum, looking down at it. Blake mirrors her gaze there, notes the way it cuts across her thigh in crooked paths. “It’ll be okay! My aura should take care of it. It just has a lot to deal with right now.”

Despite the carefree tone Yang spoke with, Blake couldn’t help but worry. Her partner had taken a beating on their mission. It was a typical project; the team would clear the grimm out of a section of the Emerald Forest. There were just so many of them. The problem, Blake had learned, with having a semblance meant to send out the damage you received was how much you have to get hurt first. By the end of it, their auras were all so low they could barely make the walk back to campus. 

“Can I see?” she asks softly, fully expecting a _no_. Instead, Yang nods, taking off her jacket.

It was bad. That’s all Blake can think. Purple bruises trail down her bicep and across her stomach, faint scars from past battles evident in several places.

She reaches out, slowly, looking in her eyes for any sign that it wasn’t okay. Instead, Yang’s expression is inviting, pleading. 

Blake holds Yang’s arm in her hands, looking down at the scarring and bruising there. Her fingers trace lightly, gently, over her skin. She makes soft circles over bruises, tracing down to the scars on her lower arm that her gauntlets usually cover. She asks, barely above a whisper, "Why do you hide this from the rest of the team?" 

“They aren’t you.”

Blake’s head snaps up at that. Yang has always been guarded, wanting to appear strong in front of her sister and team. They were similar in that way. When they were alone, now, all that crumbles down. And it's just _them_. Blake doesn’t know if the word partner really fits anymore. 

Not knowing how to help, Blake looks at Yang, still giving comfort in the form of tracing circles down her arm. Her fingers pass over every bruise, every scar, in worship, in healing. Noting every point of tension, savoring every spot she can feel Yang’s pulse. 

She leans down, presses a kiss on the inside of her wrist, soft and gentle. She doesn’t register how Yang shivers, how her own heart quickens, the way Yang looks down intently at the faint shine on her skin left behind by Blake’s lip balm. 

They sit in peace, like that, Blake touching Yang as gently as she knows how. Not because she will break, Blake thinks, but so she can heal. Yang’s aura comes to life under Blake’s touch, warming the air around them and sending a spark to the pads of her fingertips that lay on Yang’s bruised wrist. A yellow shimmer coats Yang’s wounds, like her aura needed Blake here to wake up. It was addictive, being so close to her; feeling heat in the air around her, settling in her chest. Something about her just blooms in Yang’s presence. Her ribs crack open to make room. 

“We don’t have to do bumbleby anymore,” Blake breaks the silence, eyebrows furrowed. Looking down at Yang’s wrist, she traces along her veins, notes her freckles. She wants a home under Yang’s skin, wants to feel how she breathes.

“What?”

She doesn’t say what she wants to. She doesn’t say _‘I’m so scared of hurting you’_ or ‘ _I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you’_ or ‘ _the way we are feels rooted in something, like every version of me has loved you in their timeline’_. She falls back, instead, thinks of something safer.

“I just mean me _literally_ throwing you into danger probably isn’t the safest thing,” Blake reasons. She can’t analyze the look on Yang’s face. It twists, clearly confused, almost hurt. She has to turn away, like she’s been staring at the sun. 

“I like fighting with you, though. Blake,” and gold meets lavender, “all of these are from me. You haven’t hurt me. Rushing into battle and getting myself hurt is kinda my thing.” The reassurance enters Blake as her sigh escapes. It wasn’t her fault. She doesn’t know how she would live knowing she hurt Yang. Just seeing her bruises hits her in a place she doesn’t recognize, like they might as well be her own. 

“I kicked their asses though,” Yang adds, leaning down to press their foreheads together. Blake’s eyes flutter closed without a thought, staying in the moment as long as possible. The bells of the clocktower start ringing, but neither girl moves.

Blake laughs at her statement, a little too late to be rooted in anything, at ease. Yang’s laugh echoing back sounds like every daydream she’s ever had. Head dizzy, chest tight, she thinks that maybe they can skip their afternoon class. She’d rather study the girl next to her anyway. 

\---

5\. (Y)

Team JNPR and a visiting team from Vacuo are having an exhibition match today in anticipation of the tournament next week. It is mostly for fun; the two teams agreeing for the practice more than for serious competition. That being said, Nora was already talking about breaking their legs to the point of Yang having to tune out in the cafeteria yesterday. 

The girls were getting ready for the match in their dorm. Ruby went all out the night before, making signs for each of them to hold up. Weiss and Ruby went ahead to the locker room to help the team warm up, leaving the other two to get ready on their own in time for the match. 

Yang walks over to the bathroom and finds Blake sitting on the countertop, putting on makeup in the mirror. She sees her look of concentration- tongue resting between her lips as she draws on her eyeliner. The sight makes a mark, burrows its way in. Yang lacks the ability to look away, she’s drawn to her. She thinks of her as a work of art, like Blake’s reflection should be encased, protected from the world, worshipped. They make eye contact in the mirror, and her expression is so soft and gentle it almost hurts in its intensity. Yang finds herself looking down, not sure why looking at her partner should make her feel any different than any other girl does. But it's _Blake_ , she reminds herself. It’s different from a normal partner. There’s something there that remains nameless in her mind.

That thought is interrupted before it can go anywhere. Blake hands her the tube of face paint and a brush. They planned on putting letters on their cheeks so that the four of them spell out ‘J’ ‘N’ ‘P’ ‘R’. Yang holds onto the brush and lets herself look down at her partner again, tension falling from her shoulders as her eyes land on Blake.

Blake spins around on the countertop, feet hanging off but not touching the floor. Yang steps forward, every inch feeling something like defiance. She fills the space between her legs, tries to ignore the sinking of her stomach in response. There’s too much to process. Her grip on the brush is so tight she sees her knuckles turn white.

This is normal, right? To think this about your best friend? To think about how pretty her makeup is? To notice the curve of her jawline, how soft her skin is as the brush glides across her face? To notice- _to not stop noticing_ \- her thighs touching her hips as she stands there?

Yang doesn’t understand these feelings- doesn’t know how to interpret them. She clears her thoughts to focus on what she’s doing. Her brush outlines a ‘P’ on her partner’s cheek in red, sure her face is the same color.

Blake takes her in with a look of admiration... or something similar that Yang can’t name; and she can feel her heart speed up. Blake picks up the green face paint and takes the brush from her, fingers brushing Yang’s hand. The exhale that follows is entirely involuntary. Blake places a hand on Yang’s chin to steady her face, leaves it there as she traces out the letter onto her cheek.

She finds herself looking at Blake’s lips, the way they tighten in concentration as she perfects the loop in the letter ‘R’, and how they curve into a smile when she’s finally satisfied. Yang looks, transfixed, at the girl in front of her, unable to breathe, unable to understand why she can’t. Her whole body heats up. She isn’t sure whether her eyes are still purple. 

The inches between the two of them grow smaller, Blake’s hand still resting on her jaw. Gold and lavender find their way to each other, as always. Yang stands there, dazed. There’s a _want_ there, a tightness in her chest that she doesn’t know how to categorize. Blake’s hand dips lower, palm pressed against her collarbones, fingers on her neck- a threat in any other context, maybe in this one too. Yang swallows, knows Blake can feel it by the upward tilt in her mouth. She breathes deep in reverence, catalogues the way Blake’s fingers feel against her skin, files this moment away for later. 

As the distance falls away, she can feel Blake’s breath ghost over her lips, a challenge. Yang is hyper aware of how easy it would be to close the gap, how soft Blake’s lips would be against her, how much she _wants_.

She doesn’t have time to process. Blake’s scroll vibrates on the countertop, loud enough for Yang to step back, for Blake’s ears to curl down. Blake hops down onto her feet, answering the call from Ruby. Her eyes look into Yang’s almost apologetically. 

Yang swallows, takes a breath. _It’s okay_ , she tells herself, _there’s plenty of time to figure out whatever just happened_. 

\---

+1. (Y)

Yang has fallen in love with her twice. 

The first time was slow. The lines between ‘partner’ and ‘ _more’_ blurred and distorted until their relationship was wholly new, wholly theirs. Love was found in glances in the cafeteria, chemistry in battle, and gentle touches in the garden. They didn’t say it, but they didn’t have to. 

It took being alone for Yang to get it; to understand why her heart beat faster when she looked at Blake, why she couldn't imagine a life separate from her, why she found every excuse to be close to her. Everything she felt- still feels- for Blake was new. She didn’t have the language for the way she thought about her, but grew to understand her feelings as more than ‘ _partner things_ ’. In the months apart, she learned how to be alone, thinking she would always have to be.

But she came back.

The second time, when she had Blake again, everything was different. A new worry sank in; that they would never get back to the place they were. As time went on, they grew together anyway. Not towards what they were, but to a new place. They were stronger, happier. Losing a shared demon will do that for you. Love was found in everything now. They showed love in falling asleep during meetings, in sparring, in throwing a motorcycle at her ex- the little things. Their love still didn’t have a name, and neither have acted on it, but they both _know_. It feels familiar and new, the contradiction finding its way into their every interaction.

Checking in with each other became a natural thing somewhere along the way. A slight tilt to the head means _are you okay?,_ two taps on the other’s hand means _I don’t feel great, can we talk about it when we’re alone?,_ and Yang dropping down from the top bunk and laying next to Blake means _I can't sleep either, let’s go._

That’s where Yang finds herself. She drops her hand off the side of the bunk and gives two almost silent taps on the bedpost. She hears Blake stir, sit up, make room- an invitation. Yang has gotten good at dropping to the lower bunk without alerting their teammates, and tonight is no exception. She sits in the space next to Blake, sees a face clearly in need of cheering up.

“What are we doing tonight?” she speaks softly, moving a piece of hair out of Blake’s face. Blake leans into the touch, Yang’s hand likely a warm exception to the Atlas air around them. Yang knows the girl next to her all the way through. She knows her signals, her cues. She knows, now, that she’s past the point of sleep. Some nights Yang lays on the bottom bunk with her until she can sleep, some nights they step out into the hallway to talk through the nightmares. Yang knew it would be a third option. Still, she asks.

Blake looks up at her with a glint in her eye, “Wanna fight?”

Despite how confusing the layout of Atlas Academy had been to them upon arrival, or how each hallway _still_ looks the same as every other one, Blake and Yang have learned the path to the gym by heart. They make their way there now, Blake’s hand in hers. Blake’s other hand trails along the hallway wall. Yang smiles at the habit, knowing it helps her partner feel safer. 

Yang flips the light switch when they make it to the gym, illuminating them in the cyan of Atlas training facilities. The neon blue reflecting in Blake’s golden eyes was a kind of beauty Yang still can’t name. 

“What rules are we going for tonight?” Yang asks, their intertwined hands still swinging between them. “I assume no sembl-”

The sentence stops halfway through when Yang feels a pressure on her hand. She looks to the side where her partner stands- or stood. There was now a shadow made of stone in her place. Yang rolls her eyes, elbows the clone once to make it disappear, and lands eyes on Blake. 

Blake was midair when the illusion faded, flipping across the gym. She lands with a cocky smile on her face, making eye contact with Yang and a ‘come here’ motion with her fingers. 

Yang starts a slow walk to her partner. When she’s close enough to look down at Blake, she focuses, and feels the air around them heat up. The eyes Blake looks into now are red. 

“So this is okay?” Yang breathes into the space between them. She feels Blake’s breath hitch, watches her swallow. “Thought so,” Yang says with a smile, and lavender returns. 

“No semblances, no weapons, no glowing,” Blake responds with a laugh, still flushed. 

Fists raised, the two girls circle each other. Punches with no real intent behind them land on arms raised to block.

Yang loves sparring with Blake. They so often fight _together-_ moments crafted and choreographed to make their own fighting style. Even in their time apart, Yang found herself searching for a moment to be flung in the air or looking to her side expecting a partner. Her fighting style has smoothed out over the years working with Blake. She knows when to back away to think instead of charging straight in. She knows to defend more instead of letting her fists lead the fight. She knows how to work alone, but likes it better with Blake there with her. She likes everything better with Blake.

Atlas was supposed to be cold, but the combination of fighting and being so close has them both sweating. When they stop for a breather, Yang pulls her shirt off, leaving her in a sports bra and the Atlas Academy sweatpants they sleep in. It’s a move she’s done in team training a million times; she always gets hot. She doesn’t think anything of it until she looks up.

She watches Blake as her eyes trail down, taking in Yang’s abs, the sweat slick skin, the way her sweatpants hang low. She can’t tell if Blake is flushed from fighting or starting to blush, if she’s breathing heavy from their last round sparring or from how close they are. She doesn’t think it matters, really. 

“What’cha looking at?” Yang throws out- her voice low and teasing. Her eyes take their turn looking her partner up and down. Blake’s tank top sticks to her skin, riding high on her hip. The sweatpants are too big on her, she had to roll them at the top, and the skin showing there is enough for Yang’s head to spin.

Blake recovers fast. Her eyes meet Yang’s again with put-on nonchalance. “I like to know who I’m up against,” she reasons, putting her water bottle down and raising her fists again. 

“You wanna be up against me? Jeez, Belladonna, at least take me to dinner first.” She barely recognizes the tone in her own voice, hitting low and rough in a way she knows Blake will love. Looking down at Blake for her response, she sees her partner almost shiver. It’s intoxicating. Yang knows she’s on a line, toeing over the boundary that lay shattered around them. She knows, though, that it was all leading to this. She _thinks_ she knows where Blake’s head is at. So why not find out?

“You’re insufferable,” Blake responds, but the blush that hasn’t left her cheeks and the way her ears are perked up tell otherwise. Her fists raise again. 

Yang can’t pull her head back into the match anymore. Fists barely make contact; Blake makes some advances Yang _really_ should have dodged. She’s off her game. Blake notices.

“Do you pull your punches with all the pretty girls... or just me?” She calls out, head tilting in faux innocence. The way she looks up at Yang takes her breath away. Yang takes in the way her eyes crinkle at the corner, dark brown eclipsing gold. 

A blush creeps onto Yang’s cheeks, lips parted, her guard dropping for just a second. Blake takes the opportunity, sweeping her legs out from under her and pinning Yang to the floor, thighs on either side of her hips. 

Yang freezes, in awe. Blake smiles down at her, panting, and she sees everything. Yang sees a ‘lost cause’, her first dance, her partner. She remembers bottle caps, waterfalls, late-night talks. She feels foreheads pressed together, hands held tight, fingers on her wrist. She looks up and sees the world- her world- bathed in swaths of gold. 

She can’t be sure if she pulls Blake in or if she leans down, but it doesn’t matter; Blake’s lips press against hers and it all aligns. Blake pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, Yang sighs against her lips. Yang wonders how they made it this long, why they weren’t doing this every second they could. She breathes her in, head clouded with the pull of Blake’s lips against hers, the feeling of being consumed, of _wants_ fulfilled. Growing together, being apart, overcoming their nightmares, every path they’ve taken together, every past version of Yang that’s found her Blake- it all ended up here.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! i love the bees getting to be happy.
> 
> let me know what you think!
> 
> you can find me on twitter @gayxiaolong as well :)


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